


[FILL] hope you like femdom & voyeur themes

by saturno



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Don't Let Nux Cum, F/M, Femdom, Lowercase, Non Canonical, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 22:35:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4197582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturno/pseuds/saturno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: Capable/Nux in which Nux survives and returns to the citadel, and they do it in public or semi-public, just as naturally as breathing, while the War Boys go about their tasks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[FILL] hope you like femdom & voyeur themes

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on 5/30/15 at [the mad max kink meme.](http://madmaxkink.dreamwidth.org/450.html?thread=85186#cmt85186) pretend that nux didnt get smeared flat across the desert at the end for this, i guess.
> 
> i finally wrote something that isnt necro or torture porn, im stunned too.

the body of the false god joe is rotten and gone but the guts of the citadel still live and breathe. they teem with the earth-whitened bodies of the sick, the devout, like so many grubs in black soil. even as repurposed as the warboys are now, the smell of clay and sweat and diesel still permeate this place. the heat of the sun baking the rock around them, the heat of a generation of people in constant close contact. everything is humid here, sweat damp, wet with the water that flows through cracks in the stone and over the skin of whoever touches the walls. the rock is warm like a living thing but the water has a chill, and it soaks over her nails when she touches it, letting it run between her fingers, over the back of her hand, off her elbow. he's there in that humid dark in front of her, on his knees with his palms on his thighs and gazing up, wide eyed, mottled reddening skin under the white clay. when she touches his face she can feel the heat radiating out from inside, the moisture on her fingers smearing his face paint, thumbing over a scar, catching on the corners of his cracked lips. his hand is on hers and his tongue is around the pad of her thumb as he scours the clay loose from it, sucks it up and swallows and all the while never looks away from her eyes. there's a tension there inside of him, a feverish jittery want, but he doesn't act on it, only sits on his haunches in silence, waiting for her to move first. silence save for his stuttery staccato breathing.

capable has never known the gift of control before her deliverance. control over her body or control over her experiences. the memory of the metal harnesses the false god had her and the others locked into (with all its locks and all its wicked teeth that bit into her fingertips, as if to ward her off from laying a hand on something that was His property) comes back to her sometimes, when she is alone trying to sleep. she finds herself raking gentle hands between her thighs in those times in the dark, exploring, touching at herself to first feel the harness' absence, then for the sake of how good it felt. her body, _her_ body, finally belonging to her is amazing, novel, strange and new and exciting like she is learning to stand, then walk, then run. she does it again now, the hand that isn't occupied with nux's mouth zeroing in and pushing down over herself through her thin clothes, pressing in over the clit in slow circles. no sharp things keeping her away. nobody telling her no. she can feel the hiccupy little hum in nux's throat reverberating through her fingers, and he reaches up to grasp at her left hand like he's trying to pull her fingers deeper into his mouth, eyes wider. glassy. his tongue fluttering over the tip of her thumb in his mouth, like he's trying to show what he can do for her if she'll let him. if she'll allow him that. the little circles she's making over herself are getting quicker, a growing ache in the root of her that makes her squirm just a bit, lean in back-first against the damp rock, feeling the water leeching into her clothes immediately. she's got him by the back of his skull then, pulling his face forwards. grinding in against the pressure of his open mouth. her clothes are still on so she gets both her calloused hands on the back of his head and pulls, and he makes this sound that she can feel the same way she felt it through her thumb, a low vibration against her cunt that makes her pull him in harder. more.

she feels it the same way she feels the eyes around them. the white shaved heads turning, watching her with this boy on his knees and his face between her legs. the low noises coming out of her mouth. she's seen warboys do this, in her times down here before, seen them reach out for one another and take what they wanted. wring what they needed out of one another's bodies with people passing through one section of their hive to the next. she'd never had this. never been allowed the luxury of asking for what she wanted, taking what she sought. capable is looking up, her breathing loud in her ears, and looks dead in the face of one of them, a hairless thing with metal rivuts running down the center of his forehead and black wet eyes. he's looking at nux, watching him lick at the gauzy filmy strips over her pussy like he wants to dissolve his way through - then the boy glances up, meeting her eyes for a second, and a strange halfsmile quirks up the side of his mouth before he's disappearing into the blackness.  
they know who she is down here. the old property of the false god. what are they seeing her as now? some creature the same as them maybe, freed from her yoke and taking back what is rightfully hers. was it jealousy, maybe? that it's nux chosen for this certainly holy task of her reclamation, her indulgence? she likes to think so. it's a rush of blood to think so, a rush of fluid building between her legs, a pulsing ache that she soothes by crushing in nux's face harder, grinding her clit against his teeth, his jaw, anywhere. one of her hands is off his head and is pulling the white material loose, red hair and redder flesh exposed to the air and his lips around her clit immediately, little flicks and long scrapes with the flat of his tongue and the harsh texture of his scars softened by his saliva, by how wet this was making her.

there's a crack in the distance of some vast door opening, and the human traffic increases doubly, warboys shifting stations. the sounds of people filing in fills the cavernous space, echoing off the walls, drowning out the sounds they're making, the little teeth-clenched hisses out of her and the high soft whines coming out of nux's body, like he can't believe he's being allowed this, like he can't believe she's letting him do this here, where the others can see, see and know that he's specially chosen for this. the warboys don't slow down but she sees individuals among the crowd watching as they pass, flashes of glittering eyes in the dark that trail over her, zero in on her hands and his face, and she is dizzy with arousal. can feel herself sweating along her whole body, and wordlessly she's pulling him up by the shoulders. he's murmuring something incoherent, and the clay around his face is wrecked, a smeared ruin across his mouth and staining all along her thighs and between them. when she slides her tongue into his mouth, capable can taste the sour tang of herself, lingering as she fumbles with his wrappings, enough that he understands and helps loosen what needs it. he's throbbing already; the head of his cock is shiny and wet and dripping strings of clear precum into her hand as she grabs hold of it and smears it against herself, hitching a leg around his hip and bracing herself against the rough stone. 

it's sloppy and inefficient and keeps him from any real speed and she wants it this way. wants nux pushing it in slow, the way he is now, so she can savor it. his knees are quivering, she can feel it, she can hear it in his voice, tight and tense and whimpering in gratitude into her ear. short little strokes that push it deeper in little increments and her hand scrubbing at her clit in a frantic mess of a circle, because the possessiveness, the ownership of the situation, of nux and of the silent attentions of the things in the dark around them, it's striking something deep inside her head that she didn't know needed striking this badly. capable is making a noise like it hurts, her body stuttering between nux's emaciated frame and the thick black rock behind her, twisting in place and her one leg on the ground threatening to buckle beneath her. he's got his hands under her, around her, driving himself in in the same short jittery rhythm and burying his face in her neck. she's quick and she's gunning for efficiency, and she can feel it coming now, her body clenching and her fingers on her free hand digging down into the meat of his back, looking for purchase, clay caking under her nails. it's hers, it's all hers, and the warboys around them are witness to her reaching in and taking back what is hers, and that's it, that does it, it rips through her and her whole body clenches. lightning striking down and tearing up through her. shamelessly loud sounds spilling out of her mouth, echoing off the walls, feeling like it's echoing around the inside of her skull.  
jolt, shiver, stammer, stumble, trembling, and she is coming down from it, the tension inside her easing up and leaving her boneless, gasping for air like she'd emerged from the depths of some massive body of water.

when she's aware enough again, she knows that nux hasn't come yet. kept himself from doing it for her. he's trembling like a leaf, rock solid inside her still and motionless. chewing down hard on his cracked bottom lip and struggling to breathe evenly, looking into her eyes with pupils blown as wide as they'll go.  
this is him waiting for her to be ready again, is all. once more for her before he lets himself finish. he rocks slowly, slowly to let her build up again and slowly to keep himself from stumbling over the edge, and he breathes, breathes, the clay half smeared off his face and over capable's neck.

someone passing by grunts and claps him on the shoulder briefly, and it's so unexpected and so silly in that moment that they both can't help but laugh about it.


End file.
